


Sartorial Takedown

by Tigerkid14



Series: Kinktober 2018 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Knifeplay, Knives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 15:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigerkid14/pseuds/Tigerkid14
Summary: Is it that Natasha Romanoff, international spy and assassin, is incapable of undoing a bra during sex or is there some deeper game in play?





	Sartorial Takedown

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [flawed enough (but perfect for a person)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12754557) by [Crimsoncat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimsoncat/pseuds/Crimsoncat). 



> Kinktober 2018, day 3, prompt: knife play

The bag was waiting on her desk when she got out of a meeting the next afternoon. Given that Natasha had actually been in that meeting too and there had been no bag on her desk when she left for the meeting, she was a little impressed by the delivery method. She knew better than to open the bag at work though.  
  
“Hill.” There was curiosity in Fury’s tone as he stopped in the doorway to her office. “Why is there a Victoria’s Secret bag on your desk?”   
  
“Sir.” Maria matched his curiosity with neutral cordiality. “Do you really want to know?”   
  
He considered it for maybe half a second at most. “Nope, forget I asked. You’re needed in ops.”   
  
“Yes, sir,” Maria slid the bag into a drawer and walked away like this was a perfectly normal delivery for her day, unaware that it was going to become normal for her.   
  
It began, unsurprisingly enough, in the bedroom. What was surprising was learning that there were some situations where Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, super spy and assassin, trained in a thousand arts, skilled at tongues (god was she skilled at tongues), and able to do just about anything from crocheting to computer hacking to garroting a man, could not get her shit together. It would have been adorable if Maria had been a little more cognizant in the moment she learned it.   
  
Natasha could not undo a woman’s bra while, to use the common parlance, her blood was flowing somewhere other than her brain. She tried, she definitely tried, but she just could not get her hands to cooperate with the fine controlled movements necessary to unhooking Maria’s bra. Maria was distracted enough by what her mouth was doing that she didn’t even realize this was a problem until suddenly Natasha’s frustration hit the boiling point. Maria had no idea where the knife came from. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know quite honestly, but suddenly, there it was, and her most comfortable but least flattering bra was no longer wearable.   
  
She would have formed a protest about this at the time, but then Natasha’s hands were on her breasts and complaining about her bra seemed like the least important thing to be doing. And then afterwards, Natasha was apologetic, and so sweetly offered to replace the garment that Maria couldn’t find it in her to say no, though she tried as best she could to explain that it was an older bra, and she really didn’t mind, but Natasha could be persuasive, very persuasive, especially when nakedness was involved, and thus the first delivery of new clothes to Maria’s office at S.H.I.E.L.D.

Though she didn’t know at the time it was only the first.

She tried, she really did, to help when the time came. She managed to arrange it so that many nights she was able to work a small strip-tease into the action, giving her a chance to spare a favorite garment from destruction. She’d tried just intervening when Natasha got frustrated with her inability to get the clasp, but Natasha was a woman of determination and where there was a will, there was a way, and it being Natasha, that way usually involved a weapon of some sort.

Maria still had no idea where the knives were coming from. If it were anyone else, it would be worrying, but it gradually became one of the quirks she adjusted to; like, for example, the fact that Natasha insisted on dropping off the new clothes at work.

“You have a key. We practically live together at this point anyway. You can just drop the bags at home.”

This argument, unsurprisingly, got her nowhere in terms of getting the deliveries at work to stop, but referring to their shared abode as home did get her laid. You win some, you lose some.

And in Natasha’s defense, it was adorable. Well, the part where she couldn’t undo Maria’s bra was adorable, the bit with the knife...that fell into a category that was far different from adorable and somewhere nearer to “hot as fuck”. Maria wasn’t sure what it said about her that it was her lover’s knife skills that turned her on in the bedroom, but she was trying not to examine that too closely.

The problem was, after a time, she began to notice an interesting pattern.

It began the day Natasha’s difficulty with bras expanded itself to one of Maria’s shirts. One minute she was feeling Maria up under the shirt, then she was trying to get the buttons undone and failing, and then suddenly, there was a knife and Maria’s shirt was no longer wearable.

Once again, Natasha replaced the shirt, a shirt which Maria had noticed she disliked, claiming that it didn’t suit Maria all that well, being ill-fitting and an unflattering color. The replacement was just as comfortable as the old one had been, Maria noted with relief, since that had been the primary reason she’d kept that one around, but it fit better and was a color that brought out Maria’s eyes.

She may be distractable by sex, but Maria Hill was no fool and that night she made a mental note to investigate.

She began testing, slowly, over the course of weeks, and eventually she figured out what the pattern was. She most definitely rolled her eyes when she figured it out, but the final test was the night she and Natasha began having sex and every single garment she was wearing, from the lingerie on up, was one that Natasha had bought her to replace something she’d destroyed with her knife.

Somehow, miraculously, without Maria’s help at all, Natasha managed to get every single solitary piece of clothing off Maria’s body without needing to resort to using her knife, though she still “fumbled” her way through certain parts, particularly the bra. Maria wasn’t entirely sure that bit was feigned, but she resolved to ask.

In the post coital glow, when they were both naked and satisfied, curled up together under the sheets, Maria brought it up. “So why didn’t you just tell me you hated my clothes?”

And Natasha is not the sort of person who freezes, but for one infinitesimal moment, she pauses before smoothly recovering. “What makes you think I hate your clothes?”

“Hated,” Maria corrects before explaining, “Because almost every single item of my attire that was not flattering for me to wear has since been eviscerated by your knife, yet somehow the parts of my wardrobe that were provided by you manage to survive our sexual encounters.” She paused to place a kiss against Natasha’s neck, just below her ear. “And because I am not a fool and am giving you fair warning now that if anything happens to my Marine Corp shirt there is not any collective grouping of sartorial materials you can buy me to prevent yourself from having to sleep anywhere but my bed for at least a week.”

She could feel Natasha rolling her eyes, but also felt the acceptance in her body as it pressed against hers.

“Why?” Maria finally asked, when it became apparent that Natasha wasn’t going to explain.

“Because you’re better than that. You are beautiful and powerful and you deserve to wear nice, well-made, well-fitting things that help show your beauty to the world, and if I had asked you, you would have said no and told me it was a waste of time and money. This way you let me do it without questioning it too much.” She turned in Maria’s arms to face her. “And you feel better in them too. You’re more comfortable and you feel more confident. I’ve seen the change.”

Maria took a moment to consider this and finally nodded her agreement that yes, what Natasha said was true.

Natasha leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “Besides, even with all the clothes replaced for now, I’ll still be able to find reasons to bring out my knives.”

Maria raised an eyebrow at her and Natasha grinned, a grin that was predatory and possessive and did much to raise the tempo of Maria’s heartbeat

“You liked it.” Natasha said in triumph, moving to pin Maria’s arms. “You were turned on by it. And with that as my motivation,” she rolled, so that she was on top, straddling Maria, “no piece of clothing is safe.”

And Maria had to concede, that was a fair point, and it turned out that Natasha knew how to make even a moment of concession fun.


End file.
